b a s i c s :
short n spicy dual pov
s h e l v e s :
age gap (37H/19h)
alpha
instalove
new adult
obsessed
ott
possessive
rich hero
sports
virgin
k i n k s :
daddy talk
desperation
dirty talk
no condom (on the pill tho)
praise
tss
💦
e n d e a r m e n t s :
♥︎ honey
♡ Daddy
e n d i n g :
HEA + a baby boy!
p l o t :
Brock is an innocent man who’s been behind bars for 3 years bc of one man: Mark Fletcher, the prosecutor who buried evidence so that he could convict Brock and fatten up his resume.
Brock doesn’t plan to take this sitting down. Soon as he gets out of prison, he initiates his plan to take Mark down. But when he goes to his house to confront him, he finds himself sidetracked and blindsided but the instalove of his life: Goldie, Mark’s daughter, who has answered the door in her panties.
They give into their lust immediately. And I mean like, 20 minutes after she opens the door. And they don’t come up for air for THREE DAYS (her dad is out of town). But then her dad comes back earlier than expected, and he walks into Goldie’s room while Brock’s sick is still inside her.
The conflict comes to a head. There’s a short breakup. But they do eventually live HEA.
h o t c l i p s :
This is their meet-cute:
Before I can do or say anything to that, his hand is rising, coming up to my face.
My breath catches all over again when he drags his knuckles down my cheek.
“Fuck me, but you’re breathtaking.” This voice is like rumbling thunder. Ominous but fascinating. “Hands down, honey. Show me those juicy titties.”
Heat blazes through me at his words and astonishingly my hands start to move, to obey before I come to my senses.
This guy is a stranger!
He surges forward again; one arm braces the wall above my head and he fills every corner of my vision. All without touching me. “You have two options, honey. You can tell me to leave or you can put those hands down so I can take a proper look at what’s mine.”
“Y-yours?”
“Mine,” he echoes, his eyes darkening as he leans even closer into the crook of my neck, takes a long, greedy sniff.
“Last chance, honey.” His voice is a strained mess, the corded muscles in his neck standing out. He’s hanging on by a thread and the thought that I’m responsible for his shredding control is a heady feeling for a girl who’s been overlooked and felt powerless her whole life. “Please,” he rasps heatedly into my ear.
His breath shudders out of him when I drop my hands to dangle near my hips. I don’t need to look down to feel the pebble-hard buds of my nips peeking through my shirt.
They’re alarmingly erect and sensitive.
I glance up at him and his lips are parted, his breathing coming out in pants as he eyes my boobs.
He groans, then reaches up slowly.
As if he doesn’t want to spook me.
First, he drags the hem of my shirt down so the material is strained over my chest, blatantly outlining my dark pink nipples.
The hand gripping my tee bunches and he darts forward and captures my right nipple between his lips.
A cry rips from my throat at the sublime assault, my knees weakening as his tongue laps at my areola.
He groans deep and long before switching it attention to the other peak. “Oh fuck. Oh, mercy.”
In under a minute, my T-shirt is soaked in two specific areas, and my nipples are glaringly erect and obvious through the wet fabric.
He pulls back a fraction and groans at the sight. Then he surges forward again, tongue and teeth wrecking decadent magic on my flesh.
After an age, he settles back on his haunches, his eyes glazed with lust, then he drags the front of my shirt over my head.
It nestles tightly at my nape and the manipulated fabric frames my chest, pushing my tits together.
His eyes turn even wilder.
He grabs my waist in both hands and slobbers over my boobs until I feel his spit dripping down over my belly.
I should be disgusted by the animalistic devouring but I’m hopelessly, incredibly turned on by his lack of control. When my nipples starts to burn and liquid heat seeps from beneath my panties, he releases me with one squelching plop.
He keeps me pinned to the wall as his gaze rushes over me, to linger between my legs.
“Pull down your panties for me, gorgeous. Show me that dewy cunt.”
They pool at my feet and I kick them away.
He stares into my eyes for an age, then makes that haunted sound in his throat before he lowers his head, bringing it close to the top of my thighs.
His lips are an inch from my slit, his breath washing over my damp center.
“Need a taste of this honey. Fucking need it.” He sounds like he’s in agony, like he’ll die if he doesn’t have it. “Say yes, baby.”
The moment the “yes” shivers from my throat, he throws my captured leg over his shoulder and fuses his hot lips to my pussy.
“Oh…oh God! I’m…”
“That’s it, gorgeous. Let it happen. Give Daddy your honey,” he says, lifting one hand to capture my breast.
I scream, the raw sound searing my throat. I grip his hair tighter and rock my face against his mouth, needing more, more, more.
Phew! Is it hot in here???? Damn.
…
“Take me out, honey. Show Daddy where it hurts so I can make it better.”